


three lefts make a right

by AFireInTheAttic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic/pseuds/AFireInTheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia’s heart twists in very confusing ways at the sight. Part of her is happy that Allison is clearly into girls. A noble part of her is happy that Allison is happy with someone. The biggest part of her, of course, is jealous that Allison is kissing someone other than herself. And then there's the strange feeling that she’d really like to kiss both of them because the girl Allison is kissing is fucking gorgeous. </p><p>OR: 5 awkward moments and 1 time things come together perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three lefts make a right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizleminem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizleminem/gifts).



> A million thank yous to my fantastic partner, Akshaya, who literally took this fic to the next fucking level.

 

**one**

There’s no way to make this look normal. See, Malia doesn't even like coffee.

Like, sure, she'll drink it when it's three am and she has a term paper due the next day, but if she can avoid drinking it, she does. She doesn’t like the bitterness inherent in black coffee, and it seems like no addition of syrup or sugar or cream can temper that without making it so sweet she wants to gag.

So she really has no excuse for hanging out at the campus coffee shop—definitely no excuse her best friend, Scott, would accept. She can imagine the disgusted looks on his face now.

Excuse: she likes the ambience and the atmosphere.

Fact: the coffee shop, aptly named "The Saucer," smells like coffee. She doesn't hate the smell of coffee, but it's not something she _likes_.

Excuse: she gets a lot of homework done there.

Fact: The Saucer mostly has frazzled students stopping by in between classes. No one is quiet. No one gets work done.

Excuse: she likes the music they play there.

Fact: she hates the music they play. It's always acoustic covers of songs that honestly don't need to be covered. It’s like they googled how to be the most stereotypical coffeeshop without directly copying Starbucks.

And then Scott would drag the truth out of her, because those are the rules. If you get caught in three obvious lies, you have to tell the truth the fourth time.

So.

Truth: she is hopelessly crushing on the barista who works there from 10-3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Her name is Allison and when she smiles, she dimples. When she's not smiling, she's usually glaring, and honestly, it's refreshingly adorable—she pulls faces when difficult customers turn their back on her, and Malia is pretty sure she's seen her spit in someone's cup. Her hair is dark and has purple streaks throughout and her eyes are so bright and dark at the same time. And her arms—god, her arms. The purple polo shirt that all of the baristas wore at The Saucer was short-sleeved, which meant that Allison’s ample biceps were always on display, which meant that Malia...well.

Honestly? She’s fucked.

Damned if she’ll show it, though.

"Can I get a small green tea?" she asks. She's not a huge fan of tea, either—in all truth, she finds it almost as gross as the coffee. Not quite, but it's close. The only reason she bothers ordering it is because it's the cheapest thing on the menu, and she doesn't want to buy plastic water bottles every time she wants to go moon over Allison. Reduce and reuse, all that sort of thing. She even brings her own mug to refill with tea. It gets her a 3 cent discount, which is nice.

Allison dimples at her. "Coming right up."

Malia is gonna talk to her today. She is. And she’ll even sound normal! "Um. How are you today?" Nice. Casual.

"Can't complain," Allison responds. She doesn't stop prepping the tea, but she does smile at Malia over her shoulder. "How about you?"

She thinks about it—last night, she’d been up all night helping Scott track an omega wolf that seemed to be stealing from people’s graves. (Which was so gross, and fucking disrespectful. Ugh.) Afterward, the two of them had crashed in her dorm room. They usually slept in hers because she had her own room, and her suitemates didn’t mind if she had people sleep over. Scott shared a room and only had a twin-sized bed, anyway, so it just made sense to share her bed instead. She’d slept in until 9:45, thrown on some acceptable clothes, and headed straight to The Saucer. It was only 10:03 right now—her day hadn’t been that long yet. “Um, it’s been...good.” Technically true. Since waking up, she’d seen her best friend, Scott, and her biggest crush, all in a span of twenty minutes. Never mind that Scott had been asleep and Allison doesn’t know that she’s crushing on her. Still. A good morning, all things considered. Even if she does feel dead on her feet from the lack of sleep. She can probably go take a nap with Scott after class.

"Glad to hear it," Allison says with a smile. She pours green tea into Malia's mug.

Up close, Malia can see that she has dark circles under her eyes. She wonders if her own eyes match in that way...it's been days since she's been able to sleep through the night. She loves Scott and his desire to protect everyone, but it can get exhausting. She wonders what's keeping Allison up at night, and then blushes hard when her thoughts take a dip south. Inappropriate, she chides herself. She takes the mug from Allison and takes a gulp.

The taste doesn't make her gag, but it's bland as hell. She sighs. "Thank you," she says, smiling.

"No problem," Allison replies. She doesn't immediately turn away, instead leaning forward. "You come here a lot."

"Yeah," Malia agrees. "Doesn't everyone?" She gestures behind her. The couches in the corner are full of students furiously typing and trying not to spill coffee on their laptops. Only two tables are still open.

Allison looks over Malia's shoulder. "I don't recognize any of those people. I'm sure they do come here often, but I think you're here more than I am."

She's not—specifically because she has no reason to be there if Allison isn't there, but that seems like it would be creepy to acknowledge. Out loud, anyway. Instead, she shrugs. "I...like tea?"

"You could buy a box of tea at literally any store. Even Lipton, which is literally what I'm brewing for you. You'd save more than three cents."

She thinks about running through her list of excuses and dismisses the thought. Even though Allison barely knows her, she thinks she'd be able to tell if Malia lied. She seems perceptive in a way only some people are.

So...something else. "What else am I supposed to spend my money on, if not caffeinated beverages?"

The barista seems almost ready to concede the point, but then her eyes narrow. "I've seen you pour the tea out sometimes."

"It gets cold," she says, which is true—often, she gets distracted with whatever she's reading or working on (or with watching Allison) and forgets to drink her tea (which she doesn't like enough to remember). While hot tea is tolerable, cold tea that isn't iced? Disgusting. Of course she pours it out.

"It just seems like a waste."

"I guess so," Malia says, a little confused about why Allison is pushing this. She supposes it is strange, but she can't be the only college kid who shows up at all of Allison's shifts. Unless...no. There's no way that Allison notices Malia the way Malia notices her. Probably.

Ok, it's possible. Malia knows she's hot. She dresses the way she does on purpose, after all, but she also knows she's awkward as fuck. Getting together with Stiles had seemed like luck, but that luck is probably just that he was—and is—just as awkward as her.

Allison isn't though. She's beautiful and funny and tough and...fuck.

"I came in yesterday. I had to cover someone else's shift," Allison explains. "And uh...it just seemed odd that you weren't there?"

"I had class," Malia says. It's a lie. A total lie. Too many years of running around all night have left her with the knowledge that she needs to sleep in, so almost all of her classes are three hour lectures starting at 6:00 p.m. She has no fucking clue how she’ll manage when she has to get a job after school, but maybe Scott will have chilled with the whole stay-up-all-night-fighting-bad-guys thing, and she’ll have adjusted her sleeping schedule.

Allison looks like she has a _many_ more questions, and as delighted Malia is that she's actually talking to her, she's a little panicked about how creepy Allison might find all this. This being...well, borderline stalking.

Luckily, Malia is saved by another customer arriving. She steps aside quickly, and then wishes she hadn't, because Allison leans across the counter and kisses the newly arrived customer.

Malia’s heart twists in very confusing ways at the sight. Part of her is happy that Allison is clearly into girls. A noble part of her is happy that Allison is happy with someone. The biggest part of her, of course, is jealous that Allison is kissing someone other than herself. And then there's the strange feeling that she’d really like to kiss both of them because the girl Allison is kissing is fucking gorgeous.

Not that it’s any kind of surprise. Allison is beautiful. Of course anyone she kisses would be beautiful, too.

The thing is, she feels weird now, waiting in the shop just to watch Allison, who, apparently, isn’t even available. She should go. Briefly, she thinks about getting Scott a drink, so at least this morning won’t be completely wasted, but then figures he’ll enjoy the tea more than she will, anyway. He can just have hers.

* * *

**two**

Allison practically throws the door open when she gets back to the apartment. She’s stomping a little, which is childish, but she’s feeling some very childish anger. She pulls her shirt over her head and throws it across the room. It lands on the high-backed chair that looks cool but which neither she nor Kira ever sit in.

Kira looks up from where she’s sitting on the floor. She likes to do homework at the coffee table, and usually ends up commandeering all of it for textbooks, notebooks, and her laptop. “Did Greenburg mix up the soy milk again?”

“No,” Allison says and dramatically collapses on the couch. “She didn’t come in today. Again.”

“Whoever could you mean?”

She lets her head loll to look at Kira doubtfully. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Sarcasm? Why would I be sarcastic? It’s not like you’ve been talking about the same person for the last four weeks.” Definitely sarcasm.

“I can’t help it! She was there like, all the time, and now she’s gone! Probably because I’m a creep who pays too much attention to how often she drinks green tea. Or doesn’t drink.” She mutters the last part. It’s just…it seemed like the girl was only ever there on her shifts, and she didn’t even seem to _like_ anything she was drinking. What else was she supposed to think, but that the girl was there for her?

Maybe she’s being self-centered again.

“Kira,” she sighs, rolling onto her side. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“You should _probably_ study,” Kira points out, but she scoots back so she’s not caught under the coffee table, and then climbs up onto the couch, sprawling on top of Allison. “Come on,” she says, leaning down and kissing Allison’s nose. “There’s no way in the world someone wouldn’t like _you_.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She wraps her arms around Kira’s waist and squeezes her tightly. “You’re the sweetest in the world.”

“I know,” she jokes. She leans down and rubs their noses together.

Allison smiles up at her, suddenly overwhelmed with how much she loves her. She tilts her chin up and catches Kira’s lower lip in a quick kiss.

“What’s that for?” Kira asks, smiling.

Allison has always been better at showing her feelings than explaining them. She's so awkward with her words and usually they come across accusatory instead of curious—she's positive that's why Malia hasn't come back while she's working. In this case, she's worried she’ll just say something weird that Kira will find odd but endearing, so she curls one hand around the back of Kira’s head and pulls her down until she can kiss her slowly and sweetly.

It’s easy to get lost in Kira’s kisses. She always tastes good; sometimes like the food she’d just eaten, but usually like spearmint—especially when she was studying, she liked to chew gum a lot. If Allison is remembering right, there had been a wadded up wrapper on the table next to her laptop. It probably has ABC gum in it.

Kira opens her mouth and runs her tongue underneath Allison’s upper lip. It makes Allison warm down to her toes.

She could kiss her girlfriend for days and days and days.

But she has other ideas, apparently. She leans back and says, “So, be honest—what are you going to do about her?”

“I don’t really know,” Allison admits, running her fingers up and down Kira’s back. “I mean...I’m a hunter, you’re a kitsune. It’s not like I can act like a normal barista all the time. Like, even if she did want to talk to me.” She frowns, thinking about the way most of their nights were spent. Patrolling campus for threats both supernatural and otherwise definitely wasn't _normal._ “Or, god, what if she’s like, really anti-guns? Not that I’m a huge fan of them or anything, but like, my dad is _soooo_ gung ho about it. What if she hates him? Oh my god.”

Kira kisses her forehead. “Breathe, Allison. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Anyway, your dad sucks.” She shrugs. “I still like you.”

She rolls her eyes and digs her fingers into Kira’s sides. “Why are you bullying me?” she asks.

Squirming, she pokes her back. “Stop that,” she snickers. “Let me cuddle you in peace!”

That sounds pretty nice. Allison can worry about the pretty girl later.

* * *

**three**

Kira has the tendency to hyperfocus on things when she gets interested in them. It’s why she knows a handful of phrases in various languages and has started five different course on Duolingo. It’s why she’s currently studying ethics, even though it has nothing to do with her major. It’s why she knows it’s not actually that weird that her girlfriend has a crush on one of her regular customers.

And like, okay, it’s a little weirder to be okay with her girlfriend having crushes? She knows that. But she tries to be open-minded about weird things, like werewolves and immortal kitsunes and hunters. And polyamory is a lot less weird than the fact that her mom is like 900 years old, so… Realistically, it’s not that weird.

There’s been a few times that Allison has snapchatted her pictures of The Pretty Girl (or TPG, when she’s too tired to text whole words) and the moniker is...definitely accurate.

Kira needs to focus on the present moment, though, which is all about the ethics of drilling for minerals on asteroids.

Her partner, Scott, is talking about the celestial bodies act and whether or not that applies, and how they should include it in their presentation. “I think it could easily be argued that asteroids aren’t included in this act,” he’s saying. “But the fact remains that drilling into these asteroids may have negative effects on the solar system, albeit smaller impacts. Who’s to say that the devices installed to harvest these minerals wouldn’t send shrapnel hurtling toward earth? And that’s just from a geocentric perspective.”

Before Scott can continue, someone runs up to their table in the library. Kira does a doubletake when she sees that it’s _the girl_ . _TPG_. Small world, she supposes, but still, it's odd that she's seeing her so soon after Allison had complained last night.

Also, TPG is _so_ much prettier in person. Distant snapchat creepshots haven’t do her justice. She feels butterflies start to form in her stomach, which is so unexpected that she almost pulls her phone out to text Allison right then and there.

“Scott!” TPG gasps. She seems panicked, and—god, is that blood on her knuckles? What the hell? “I need to talk—” Abruptly, she notices Kira and blanches. “You’re Allison’s—Um. Hi?”

“Malia, are you okay?” Scott wonders. He seems concerned, but not really surprised at the blood.  He reaches out to touch her hand. “What happened?”

Kira is curious herself. For all that Allison has told her about TPG (Malia, Kira notes mentally), she’d never mentioned a penchant for fighting. In most of Allison’s stories, Malia was reading books and letting her tea get cold, and occasionally, getting caught staring. But bloody knuckles didn’t come from papercuts. Probably.

Awkwardly, Malia hides her hand behind her back. She carefully avoids Kira’s eyes, like she knows exactly where her thoughts have gone. “Scott—I think we should talk.”

Well this is an odd conversation for Kira to hear during a study session. That phrase never boded well.

“Is this—?”

“Yeah.”

“Right now?”

“Outside.”

“Fuck.” Scott turns to face Kira, already shoving his books into his backpack haphazardly. “Kira, I’m so sorry, but uh—something came up? Can we reschedule?” He looks deeply apologetic, and based on the passionate way he’d been talking about their assignment, he probably _is_ sad about needing to go.

“Of course,” she says, smiling. If she has to guess, she’d say that maybe an ex-boyfriend is involved. Malia is clearly tougher than she looks on first inspection, if bleeding knuckles didn't bother her. It’s something Kira would expect of Allison, though, after a long night of hunting, so maybe it’s not that odd. “I’ll text you. Nice to meet you, Malia.”

Malia actually blushes, which catches Kira a little off guard—she doesn’t seem like a blusher. But she smiles, too. “You too...Kira.”

Even stranger, she feels herself blushing, too. It’s nice, hearing her name said like that—like she’s happy to know her name and like she won’t forget it.  

Kira’s phone startes vibrating then—when she checks, she see’s it’s a call from Allison. She looks up to apologize, but the two of them are already hurrying out of the library, the door swinging shut behind them.

Weird.

She answers the phone. “Hey, Allison. You’ll never guess—”

Allison interrupts before she can finish telling her about Malia, née TPG. “SOS, _now_. I found the omega.”

“Shit, where?”

“Behind the library.”

“Fuck, okay—I’ll be there in a minute!”

* * *

**four**

Malia honestly hadn’t realized that she had bloody knuckles until Scott had touched her hand in the library, which was like, triple awkward since Allison’s girlfriend had been there.

And honestly, fuck her luck. Kira is even cuter up close, and she can’t even deal with that right now, because the fucking omega wolf who doesn’t know how to respect the dead is running around campus, likely to get himself killed or at the very least, tasered by campus security. Yikes.

She and Scott tear around the corner of the library just in time to see the omega get pinned by an arrow.

“Whoa!” Scott yells, rushing right over to the omega and yanking the arrow out. “What the fuck?” He holds the omega down with one arm and looks around wildly. “Dude!”

Malia rushes as the shooter before she realizes who it is. “Allison?” She ends up tackling her anyway, unable to stop her momentum.

“Ow! Get off me!” Allison shoves her off and immediately goes into a crouch. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh, so you _aren’t_ hunting him?” Scott says sarcastically. “Great. Please, go back to shooting the homeless man!”

“No, I mean—fuck. Look, I don’t want to like, permanently injure him! I just wanted him to leave.”

Malia can’t help it. She giggles. It’s not like she hadn’t just gotten into a fist fight with the omega, but at least she hadn’t shot him.

Scott still seems really affronted, which makes sense, given the number of arrows that have been shot at him in the past. “What, your plan was to threaten him until he got too scared to stick around?”

Fuck, now she’s laughing harder. Scott looks so earnest about all of this, and the omega himself is just trying to escape. He probably hadn’t expected to run into an alpha today, but here they all were—Allison with her crossbow still aimed, Scott looking disgusted, and Malia cracking up in the grass.

Kira rounds the library then, and somehow it’s even funnier to imagine her coming upon this scene.

“Seriously, Malia?” Scott says, looking disappointed.

Valiantly, she manages to stop laughing, and pushes herself up into a seated position. “Weren’t _we_ going to threaten him until he left town?”

“Not with arrows!”

It makes her laugh again, harder, and the omega wolf sees an opportunity in Scott’s disappointment to escape. Of course, Scott’s not ready for him to go that easily and immediately _roars_ at him until the omega is cowering and practically frozen, waiting for Scott’s next order. Scott doesn’t typically use his alpha roar, and it catches Malia off guard—even though it wasn’t directed at her, she’s sitting practically at attention, laughter dead in her throat.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” Allison sighs. “You’re a werewolf? Fuck, dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Werecoyote,” Malia corrects, hardly thinking about it. It’s semantics, but it’s also a matter of pride. She’s the only werecoyote she’s ever met, and it’s cool.

She processes the rest of Allison’s statement a moment later. Why would her dad kill her because Malia and Scott are werecreatures?

“Does it really matter?” Kira asks, coming closer to all of them. She has a sword (what the fuck?) and looks ready to fuck shit up. “What are we gonna do about him?”

Scott rolls his eyes (still bright red, though his face has smoothed out back to normal), and says, “I’ll talk to him.” He starts to lecture the omega about respecting the sanctity of graves and giving him information about a nearby soup kitchen and a homeless shelter that won’t ask too many questions. He’d looked up the information specifically for this conversation. They hadn’t planned on threatening the omega unless he refused to accept their help. Scott’s always happy to welcome more people to his pack, and honestly, probably would have invited the omega to move in with him, if he had a house and not a tiny dorm room.

And, assuming the conversation with Allison and Kira is going to go where she thinks it will, Scott’s probably going to welcome them into his pack, too.

Kira goes to check Allison out—”God, did you run into a wall?”

“No, she tackled me.”

—Malia awkwardly looks away. She does feel bad about tackling Allison, but she knows getting shot hurts. So...she doesn’t feel _that_ bad. Of course, she does feel bad because, well. She’s still not over her crush(es), even if they are unavailable. Because, ya know, they’re dating each other. Awkward.

* * *

**five**

Sitting the cafe is weird. Scott and The Pretty Girl, who Allison should really start referring to by name, are seated on one side of the table, idly stealing food off of each other's plates, like it's some kind of game. Maybe it is.

She can feel herself shaking, almost, as she waits for the two of them to threaten her into leaving town, like _she_ was the omega eating livers from dead people. God.

As though sensing her thoughts, Kira rests her hand firmly on her leg. She squeezes lightly just once.

She clears her throat awkwardly. “So, um, how long have you two been, um, shifting?” She knows it's a weird question, but it's one that prevents her from asking the question she really wants to ask.

“I was 16,” Scott says. “So...four years now?”

“It's complicated,” Malia says, looking like she wants to laugh. “Technically since I was a kid, but I only started going back and forth at 17.”

She doesn't even know what that _means._

“So. Do you guys have rules about hunting or should we start worrying that we’ll be next?” Scott asks wryly.

Malia looks like she’s going to start laughing again, and it seems like Scott had intended it that way. Their easy friendship (or, fuck, what if they were dating?) makes Allison a little jealous. Generally speaking, she’s always been awkward making new friends. Kira is her best friend but also her partner, and she’s normally all Allison needed to be happy, but now, watching them, she feels like she’s missing out on something.

Then again, she usually feels that way with Malia.

She goes for false bravado. “No,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “I mean, if my dad was here, maybe? But you don't have to worry about us at all.”

“Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas.” Kira’s French is smooth as she calmly stirs her coffee.

Malia looks baffled but Scott smiles. “‘We protect those who can't protect themselves.’ It's nice. I might disagree with your methods but your reasoning is good.”

She's watching Malia more than she's watching Scott, which is probably a bad idea since he's the alpha and all, but she can't help herself. She likes seeing Malia’s open approval, written clearly on her face. She likes it a lot.

“I think we obviously need to establish some ground rules,” Kira says, running her fingers up and down Allison’s thigh. “Like, we’re not interested in having some kind of territory war. We’re all students here and I think it would be way too difficult to establish boundaries, especially since Scott and I have the same class and Malia likes to go to Allison’s coffee shop.”

That seems to throw Scott. “Why are you going to a coffee shop?” He asks her, apparently bewildered. It seems odd for him to ask, since Malia obviously has a caffeine addiction.

Malia firmly looks away, actually blushing. It's incredibly adorable. “Later?”

He looks doubtful, but nods. To Kira and Allison, he says, “I'm not interested in claiming territory. As long as we aren't going to be at each other's throats, I see no need to avoid each other.”

“We’re not territorial either,” Allison confirms. The best move with Scott, it seems, is to be honest and calm. Her dad would be doing a pretty awful job at this point in the conversation—a lot of posturing would almost definitely be happening. “Obviously we’re primarily interested in keeping campus safe, but we do extend our reach to town if something big is going on—like the omega.”

Malia nods. “Same, for the most part.”

Scott seems satisfied, as well. “This may be premature, since we barely know each other, but it seems like it might be a good idea to coordinate from here on out. I think we’re both invested in keeping campus safe, and honestly? It might be nice to go to bed before 10 sometime.” Scott smiles.

That makes Malia laugh again. She’s been doing a lot of that, and if the initial situation hadn't been so strange she might be laughing herself. As it is, now that the immediate danger is past, she just a finds herself smiling at Malia’s laughter.

It's Malia who says, “You ask everything so earnestly it almost avoids being awkward.”

It's true, but it's adorable, too. Despite not knowing Scott beyond the fact that he’s an alpha wolf, and according to Kira, really passionate about ethical space practices, she finds that she trusts him. Something about him is just really pleasant and, like Malia said, earnest.

Plus, it's clear that she thinks the world of him. And okay, it's probably ridiculous to base your opinions on someone on your crush’s feelings about them, but here Allison is, believing that Scott, an alpha werewolf whose last name she doesn't even know, is a good person, all because Malia obviously adores him. Her father would be so disappointed in her, but she can't bring herself to care. She _is_ territorial when it comes to her dad, and this is her turf. He doesn't need to worry about who she forms alliances with.

Scott beams. “Cool. Since it was my idea, we can cover campus tonight. You guys can take over tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” Kira says, smiling. She’s been so very calm about this whole thing, but Allison can see the relief in her smile. She wasn't as collected as she was pretending to be—and suddenly Allison is grateful, so very grateful, for her wonderful girlfriend.

She leans over and presses a kiss to Kira’s cheek.

Her girlfriend laughs and turns to catch a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away. “Scott, do you want to just work on our project here? It might be a good time for Allison and Malia to talk about not knocking each other over.” She says this teasingly, which is how Allison knows that this is her hint to get her shit together and actually try talking to Malia about feelings.

Ugh.

Still, she steels herself. “That's a good idea, actually. Malia, do you want to get this to go and take a walk, maybe?” The offer is more out of politeness than anything—most of Malia’s food is gone, except half of her burger.

Still, she nods, looking nervous herself. “Scott, can I pay you back?”

“Don't worry,” he says, waving a hand. “You can buy me food later. Or some of this apparently amazing coffee you've been drinking.” He says the last sentence with a pointed look, and is rewarded by Malia blushing.

“Later,” she emphasizes.

Allison just sets a 10$ bill on the table. “If the tip needs to be better, let me know,” she tells Kira.

Easily, Malia slides out of the booth, picking her burger up off her plate as she goes. A bit of mustard drips down her arm, and with practiced ease, she licks it.

Allison feels her face burn hot as Scott scoffs and hands Malia a couple napkins. “Please pretend you grew up in a house,” he says.

Malia just winks at him.

Allison’s food is easier to grab—it's just a wrap, with only one stripe of ranch sauce, so it shouldn't drip on her. She takes a napkin, anyway, and sticks it in her pocket. “Bye, babe,” she says to Kira, who smiles at her and waves.

Outside, Malia says, “I really am sorry I tackled you. I didn't realize it was you.

“That's okay,” she says, and it is. She knows this isn't really what they need to talk about. She knows if they don't talk about how much Allison is crushing, Kira will never let her live it down. And realistically, she knows this might be her only chance. If she chickens out now, she’ll just keep letting it go by and, well...miss out. She steels herself and says, “I've missed you. At the Saucer.”

“Oh,” Malia says. She’s blushing again.

Allison really wants to kiss her red-stained cheeks. She holds herself back. Instead, she says, “Look, about that day. I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just—I wanted to talk to you and ended up putting my foot in my mouth.”

“My foot pretty much lives in my mouth,” Malia says, looking like she's not exactly sure what to make of this conversation. “I, uh,” she pauses, looking away. She takes another bite of her burger, like she's not sure what else to do, and then shrugs. “I've been...busy. And poor. It’s not your fault or anything.”

“Oh,” she replies. “Did you take my advice about Lipton?”

“What? Oh, uh—no. I don't really...like tea?” She looks mortified to have said it out loud, but then it's like a dam seems to burst. “It's just the cheapest item on the menu, and it's not like I hate it; it's just not something I want to spend money on, right? But I came in one day in a study group and you were working and, God, I'm really fucking gay, so I just kept coming back? And it didn't take so long to figure out your schedule so I really only came when you were on shift and I could get away without Scott noticing, which was seriously no problem because he sleeps through basically everything, and—” She stops, looking a little mortified. “I stopped coming because it felt weird to be crushing on you when you have a girlfriend, and I probably shouldn't have confessed at all because I'm _positive_ this is weird now, but I’m kind of impulsive.”

She’s reeling a little, caught up in the possibilities of what Malia has said. “Holy shit,” she says finally.

Malia nervously takes another bite of her burger, chews it slowly, swallows, and says, “Sorry.”

“No, um, it's fine,” she says carefully. “You just caught me off guard.”

“Oh,” she says, and stares at the pavement in front of them. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she says hurriedly, suddenly realizing Malia probably didn't know that the feeling was mutual. “I mean, I really liked you coming in, so it’s not uncomfortable at all. I, uh, like you, too.”

The words hang between them. Malia seems too stunned to speak, so they walk in silence for a moment.

Just for something to do, Allison eats half of her wrap. As seems to be typical with wraps, she’s not satisfied. She makes a mental note to order something different next time she goes to the cafe.

“You have a girlfriend,” Malia says finally. “A really pretty girlfriend who seems really nice and who gets along with Scott really well.”

“She’s the best,” Allison agrees. She realizes, suddenly, that she doesn't know how to come out and say that her girlfriend is okay with polyamory and it would be great if she was, too, but—God, what the fuck. Why should it have to be elegant. “Date us,” she proposes.

“What?”

“Date both of us. Or like, just go on one date with us?” God, this can't get any worse, right? “We’ve talked about it a lot and I think—we think—we want to try this. And I know we don't even know each other but you're really pretty and you don't even like tea but you drank it for weeks just to be around me and...that's really sweet. And it's impossible not to like Kira so, I, um, I think this could work.”

Malia says yes.

* * *

**plus one**

“Oh, my god,” Kira gasps, collapsing onto the bed. She ends up with a hanger poking into her back, which is no surprise, since it feels like her entire closet is on the bed and none of it is on her body. “Allison. What the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

“I dunno, what’d you wear on our first date?” Allison asks. She, of course, is already dressed, and looks perfect, like she’s been prepared for a date for weeks and finally has a chance to put the preparation to good use. “That pink dress, right?”

“I donated that to Goodwill last year,” she sighs. She’s aware she’s being a little dramatic. Her first time meeting Malia involved blood and a werewolf, so it’s not like Malia hasn’t seen her a little more tousled than she’d like. But this is a date, and she wants it to go right. She’s cheesy; so what?

As though sensing her thoughts, Allison clears a spot on the bed and sits next to her. Carefully, she cards her fingers through Kira’s hair and smiles down at her. “She’s going to love you, you know? Who wouldn’t? You’re...magnificent.” She taps her on the nose. “And really cute. Beautiful, actually.”

“Okay, but I still need to find the perfect outfit.”

“Go like this.” She winks dramatically at that, making a show of eyeing her cleavage.

“Oh, my god, shut up.” But she can feel herself grinning. This is going to be fine, she reassures herself. Allison is right—it’s going to be okay and Malia will like her just fine. She sits up and looks around the bed. Maybe she should go for comfort. She picks up a blue skater dress she likes to wear when she’s feeling bad about herself and pulls it on over her head. “What about this?”

“Perfect,” Allison says.

She knows that she’d say that for whatever dress she picked out, but it still makes her feel better. “Thanks, babe.”

“Any time.”

She can’t help but smile at her, feeling so very lucky that she’s with her and that they’re about to be with someone else wonderful, too. This _will_ go okay.

A knock on the door signals the end of her prep time, which sucks because she was going to look at her hair again. She feels the panic rising again, but Allison just shakes her head. “I got it. Finish up in here and meet us in the kitchen, okay?”

She smiles, immediately relaxing. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Allison says, and leans forward to steal a kiss.

Kira knows there’s not much point in messing with her hair any further. It’s already been straightened very carefully, and she’s pinned back her bangs to frame her face with a gentle swoop. It looks nice, she hopes—Allison likes it, at the very least. Nervously, she dabs on a little extra lipstick at the corner of her mouth, takes a deep breath, and leaves the bedroom.

When she sees the two of them chatting in the kitchen, and Malia turns to smile at her, Kira knows this is going to be okay. More than okay—it’s going to be _good_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok there's this moment where Malia says "i'm really fucking gay" but i want to establish that she's probably pan and using gay in the colloquial way, but like. Feel free to interpret it as you like!


End file.
